


immaterial

by virginianwolfsnake



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/F, continuing the Eswell theme, esme is annoying, no I have no idea when this would have taken place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virginianwolfsnake/pseuds/virginianwolfsnake
Summary: georgina finds her place amidst the ever-shifting trends.
Relationships: Georgina Orwell/Esmé Squalor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	immaterial

The penthouse at 667 Dark Avenue is undoubtedly a beautiful living space. It is a thing of architectural genius, for a start - floor-to-ceiling windows, carved alcoves and towering high ceilings that put its guests in mind of mansions and stately homes rather than apartment buildings. It oozes luxury, from the thick, gold-flecked marble countertops to the varnished bronze and cut crystal chandeliers that adorn almost every room. Esmé has an eye for detail, and that shows itself in every inch, in lavish crown moulded corners and painstakingly crafted iron doorknobs. The bespoke bed sheets are a favourite, certainly, and the ruthless standards of the cleaning staff are also appreciated - Georgina does not like a mess, and she has never found one here. 

But there is something strange about it, too. The penthouse is redecorated to varying degrees with such alarming regularity that the paint is barely ever dry, the furniture is never comfortable and, worst of all, there are always people taking measurements and replacing cabinets that are the wrong shade of mahogany or curtains that don’t match this season’s palette. The end result has a kind of clinical perfection to it, the kind Georgina appreciates in her optometry office but not in her living room, and a sort of constantly changing mania that make it almost impossible to truly relax or become familiar with one’s surroundings.

Georgina is a creature of habit, for better or - usually - for worse, and while Esmé seems to find some genuine excitement in this relentless change, she just finds it exhausting. She has secretly started to enjoy leaving this labyrinth of a dwelling, well-suited for a mysterious headquarters and less so for a welcoming home, and returning to her own house to a comfortable chair and familiar green wallpaper. 

Of course, it is none of her business how Esmé decides to run and design her own home.  _ Their home _ , she remembers distantly, though she doubts that Jerome has been consulted even once on any of the changes Esmé continually makes to it. She is uncompromising for everyone, most of all for him - and if the  _ owner  _ of the place is so sidelined, Georgina knows for certain that her opinion will be irrelevant too.

So, she remembers her place and does not complain, except for the occasional roll of her eyes and shake of her head at being unable to find her way to a kitchen when every surrounding room has been painted an identical shade of the latest  _ in _ colour. 

There is something else there too, something she tries to unhear.  _ Will Paltryville optometrists be out of fashion one day too? _

Jerome has apparently been invited out of town overnight for a conference that Georgina is certain is invented, and likely by his wife - after all, who in their right  _ mind _ would want Jerome Squalor, the personification of a soap dish, to attend an event if they had a choice? When she arrives at his door, as she regularly does when he himself is out of town, Esmé meets her there with a familiar grin and she has to resist the urge to sigh aloud. 

“What have you done?” she asks, in a tone that unapologetically suggests that she had been looking forward to an evening wrapped up in the soft silk sheets in the master bedroom, rather than an extended discussion about wallpaper options. 

“That isn’t a very enthusiastic greeting,” Esmé snipes good-naturedly, stepping briefly over the threshold with that same worrying little smile to slide her pale hands around her waist. Before Georgina has the chance to greet her in a way that is more to her satisfaction, the blonde has set about showing her how. Hands resting against the sides of her face, she dips her head to impart one of  _ those _ kisses - today tinged with a background note of peppermint undoubtedly from today’s  _ in _ food or drink - that makes Georgina regret ever bothering to wear lipstick and wish more than ever that they could go to bed and stay there forever. Does the bed even still exist? Are beds  _ out? _ She dreads to think. 

They stay pressed close for too long, halfway in and hallway out of the doorway - long enough that Georgina’s knees begin to weaken and her irritation begins to melt away. It is only when Esmé pulls back, regarding her smudged lips and skewed glasses with undisguised pride, that she whispers the most dreaded four words in the English language (at least, according to Georgina); “I have been decorating.”

Pursing her lips to stop herself from groaning, Georgina winces. She gestures vaguely to indicate Esmé’s pristine white pantsuit - hardly appropriate attire, though that has admittedly never stopped her before. “In  _ that? _ ” 

“Don’t be silly.” The financier pulls a face and raises one hand to draw attention to her pristine taupe manicure. “I suppose it is more accurate to say I’ve been project managing, if you really want to be pedantic.”

Georgina smiles weakly. “Is that right?”

“ _ Mm _ .” The look of unrepentant glee on her face suggests she might know how much the optometrist hates this endless cycle but that she has decided she does not care. “Come on, Georgie, come in; I’m excited to show you!”

_ Of course you are _ . Georgina drags her suddenly heavy, reluctant legs through the maze that is the penthouse behind an Esmé who is so excited she is basically prancing. At one point in their subsequent ten minute walk, Esmé becomes so impatient that she circles back to grab hold of her wrist and drag her along a little faster, ignoring the murmured complaints. 

“For God’s  _ sake _ , Esmé, my  _ knee _ ,” Georgina growls, struggling to keep up. 

“I know  _ full well _ that cane is for show, darling,” the blonde quips in an unsympathetic response, not in the least bit perturbed by the murmured complaints. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your knee, except when you are in a sour mood.”

That isn’t entirely true. Georgina’s knee  _ does _ twinge sometimes - though she reluctantly concedes, only to herself, that this is not actually one of those times. Raising her eyes to the ceiling as if she might be presented with a way out from the heavens, she allows herself to be yanked forward around one final corner, and then once left into a room she has never been in before.

The decor here is lavish, certainly, but it is different. Georgina cannot be sure if the plush leather couch and armchair are currently fashionable, or if the soothing low-light banker lamps have recently made a comeback. There is a drinks cabinet, admirably well stocked with what she can just about make out is a  _ fantastic _ selection of whiskeys, a side-table housing a heavy crystal ashtray and a cut glass tumbler, and a cushioned bench seat at just the right height for a book or a newspaper. It is only after she draws breath to state how much she approves of this new trend that she realises what this  _ really  _ is, so suddenly that it almost knocks all the air from her lungs.

Esmé hovers behind her back, hands draped lightly over her shoulders. She stays there for a long moment, for once silent and still, until Georgina’s hand moves of its own accord to grasp one of hers and she turns to regard her in silent shock. 

“I won’t change it next week,” she promises, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes that belies the warmth Georgina is certain she can feel in the gesture. Then she shrugs, faux-nonchalant. “It is permanent. It is  _ classic _ anyway, I suppose. Some things are never truly out of fashion.”

Esmé is ostensibly talking about the room, which is so tailored in every aspect to Georgina’s own taste that a distant part of her mind has to wonder whether she has had designers combing through her home when she is at work, but her eyes don’t reflect as much - they focus on Georgina’s own, then her lips, still parted slightly in surprise, then over the contours of her face, as if trying to capture the moment and retain it in her memory forever. 

And Georgina, feeling more and more like a permanent fixture herself amidst the chaos, interrupts her only to crane her neck and kiss her, as gently and slowly as she ever has.


End file.
